a certain indefinite number of Petrarchan sonnets (36)
Ordinarily I don’t publish so much poetry at Theoria-press, and instead try to provide mostly essays with an odd poem or sonnet occasionally interspersed among them. But the Muse’s visits have outstripped my ability to keep pace with prose pieces so readers who prefer essays should peruse the archives of this site, which are replete with them. This is an actual Petrarchan sonnet so it will not be preceded by my usual exculpatory disclaimer about having departed from the paradigmatic form.
THROUGH these streets I never ceased to run
panting, pursued by shapeless thoughts of dread
but nowhere found to rest my wary head
and weary bones beneath the callous Sun
as steady as the barrel of a gun
and so once more I roused myself and fled
but found by unseen hands my steps were led
unto the very place I had begun
unto the very place I made my start
through the working of mysterious charms
in a mysterious accord, my part
I played, seeking to save myself from harms
and protect my tender, fearful heart
my flight I had run me straight into your arms
So true🌷